About the Frozen Time
by Metonomia
Summary: The prophecy was nothing more than a fabrication, a tool. What Jadis never counted on was it actually coming true.


About the Frozen Time

Winter again. She breathes the cold air in deeply, filtering it through the dead grass and the miles of rock. It is always cold down here, where light has never shone, but there is a special purity to the chill of snow and ice. She rests her pale cheek against the dark stone, feels the rough scratch of it against her skin as she draws strength slowly from this season of power. Centuries have passed – how many, she cannot know – while she has lain dreaming beneath the world. It might be called languishing, she thinks, which is a lovely word to describe prisoners and traitors, but she does not languish. She waits, and plots, and remembers.

* * *

Her Imperial Majesty Jadis, Queen of Narnia, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, and Empress of the Lone Islands sat tall and imposing upon her throne, staring steadily into the stone eyes of the Centaur before her.

"You may remove it from our sight." She reveled in the power inherent in her voice, the unquestioning deference of her wolves, and the delicious, intoxicating terror on the faces of her captives. She lifted one finger slightly and Maugrim, ever-watchful for her cues, stalked down to menace the remaining rebels, a trembling Faun and a badger who looked as though he was trying to disappear into the floor.

"And what of these, my Queen?" Maugrim growled.

"Take them to our dungeons," she said dismissively. "We shall dispense our justice to these wretches tomorrow." She rose and swept ahead of the wolves to lead the way down to her expansive dungeons.

"One here, and the other here," she ordered, pointing out two cells. "No need for them to have company. Traitors ought to be alone, and lonely, and then to die." The Faun opened his mouth, perhaps to curse her, perhaps to make some declaration of faith, but she let the tip of her wand fall level with his heart, and he stumbled back.

"You may use this last night to meditate upon the futility of opposing me," she told them, then turned, dismissing all of the wolves but Maugrim, with whom she began to slowly walk away from the captives.

"They must be dealt with, Captain," she whispered, pitching her voice to carry back down the hall. "All the rebels must be silenced."

"They are helpless against your power," he said, the perfect sycophant, and she inclined her head in regal agreement.

"They are, for now. But I must confide in you, Captain." She dropped her voice dramatically, still certain that those creatures behind could hear her every word. "I have been made aware of a certain prophecy, a promise of Deep Magic that some of our enemies cling to."

Maugrim's very real response was perfect. "A prophecy? I have failed you, my Queen, for I knew nothing of any rebel prophecy."

"Do not fear my displeasure, Captain. This secret was well-guarded by the rebels, and I have only learned of it through spies who report solely to me. And rightfully so, for this knowledge must not be spread to our common ranks."

"What is this prophecy?" he whined, tail whipping in agitation though he remained otherwise perfectly calm and professional.

She made another exaggerated pretence of lowering her voice as she replied.

"It says that 'when Adam's flesh and Adam's bone sit at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done.'" She let the words ring out into the silence, bouncing and echoing quietly in the icy chill of her dungeons, then repeated them for good measure.

"When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone sit at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done. These rebels do call me evil, Captain. This prophecy could become a strong rallying point for them, and we cannot allow that. You will spread word to our followers and to all those under our control. Do not dare to mention the prophecy in any way, but declare that we have ordained that no Son of Adam or Daughter of Eve shall be suffered in Narnia but Our Royal Majesty. If any is ever found, they are to be brought to us immediately, and should any Narnian fail to do so, our justice will be swift."

"Yes, my Queen," he bowed. "It shall be tended to at once."

They walked on in silence until they were truly out of earshot of the prisoners, and then she turned to smile coldly at her Captain.

"You will be wondering why I have been so seemingly careless with my words."

"My Queen has a plan," Maugrim replied, teeth bared in a hunter's grin.

"There is no prophecy." His nostrils flared, but he had not gotten to be her second in command by being easily shocked.

"Tomorrow you will take the Faun and the badger out into the woods to execute them on my orders. You will kill one, and the other will bravely escape to carry this important news back to his comrades. You have doubts?" she asked, seeing him draw breath and pause.

"Your Majesty said before that the prophecy would become a rallying point for the rebels. Will this not be so?"

"It will," she allowed, "but you must bear in mind that the prophecy means nothing. They will wait and wait for it to be fulfilled, but it never will be, and they will grow increasingly demoralized and easy to subdue. Hope will make them careless and stupid, and should any Human manage to stumble into Narnia, we will kill them as evidence of our might."

She turned aside to gaze out of a window at the expanse of snow before her, cold and crisp and almost as beautiful as the taste of the Deplorable Word on her tongue, and she knew that hers was the power, forever.

* * *

She set a prophecy to control the land, never guessing that it might actually come true. Now Jadis waits beneath the earth, weaving herself back together and composing no prophetic rhymes but songs, warm melodies to enchant and control. This time, no deep magic or open war. She will even set aside the winter's might, though it has served her well. Pulling scales of bright spring green about herself, she eases out of the Underlands, seeking power once more.

* * *

A/N: Should have been doing my homework, but instead I decided to finally write down this idea that's been hanging about for a while now. Thanks to **songsmith** for helping me get through a block. The title is from John Keat's _Stanzas_.


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